My name is Karuizawa Kei, and this is my story.
In elementary school, the sunlight was warm. I always sat in the front row, and red circles marking correct answers piled up in my workbook like little hills. My classmates would gather around me to ask about math problems, and even the teachers smiled and called me their "little sun."
Back then, I thought life would always stay so bright.
Everything changed during my first month of junior high.
Yamamoto and her friends started deliberately bumping into me in the hallway, throwing my textbooks on the ground and trampling them, and cornering me on my way home.
They said I was "pretending to be so high and mighty" and "stealing the spotlight because I think I'm pretty."
I wondered if they would stop ostracizing and bullying me if I covered my face and made myself look plain.
I let my straight bangs grow until they covered my eyes, changed into old, faded clothes, kept my head down when I spoke, and even walked close to the walls.
[But I was wrong]
They didn't stop. They only went even further.
Yamamura grabbed the birthday present my parents had given me—the canvas backpack embroidered with little daisies—and held up a pair of scissors in front of me.
"You think dressing like a country bumpkin will help?" she laughed sharply. The scissors went snip, and the canvas split open. The daisy petals were cut to shreds.
I lunged for it, but Yamamoto shoved me to the ground. They surrounded me, stomping on the backpack and saying that "no matter how much you pretend, you'll always be as unlikeable as ever."
That day, I crouched in the corner of the hallway, clutching my ruined backpack as tears fell onto the torn canvas.
I didn't understand why I couldn't escape being bullied, even after I'd hidden every bit of my light.
My parents worked in another city. On the phone, they only ever asked about my grades. I didn't dare tell them I was being bullied. I was afraid they'd worry, and even more afraid they'd think I wasn't good enough.
I hated talking to people. I was afraid strangers would bully me just like they did. I grew timid, too, and locked myself in my room as soon as I got home. It felt like the only "safe place" I had.
On June 20, I heard the door unlock.
Mom was home. She came in carrying a suitcase, her face weary from the journey. But when her eyes fell on me, she froze.
My long bangs covered my eyes. I wore a baggy old jacket, and my tangled hair clung to my cheeks. I was nothing like the little girl she remembered, the one with a high ponytail who loved to smile.
She frowned, her voice edged with confusion and reproach. "Kei, what happened to you? Is this some rebellious phase? Are you deliberately neglecting yourself?"
I opened my mouth to explain, but it felt as if something were lodged in my throat.
All I could do was lower my head and stare at the tips of my shoes. Mom sighed and didn't ask anything else. She turned to unpack.
[I wanted Mom to realize she was wrong and notice for herself that I wasn't doing well, but she didn't]
On June 21, the doorbell rang.
I heard Mom laugh as she opened the door and exchanged greetings with an unfamiliar woman—one of her friends.
I instinctively shrank behind my door, gripping the handle tightly. I didn't dare go out.
Their voices drifted in through the door. The woman sounded puzzled. "What's going on with your daughter? She doesn't even greet me anymore." Mom replied helplessly, "Maybe she's going through a rebellious phase. She's become a little shy around people."
They chatted for a long time. I crouched behind the door, hardly daring to breathe.
I didn't hear the front door close until the woman left. Mom's footsteps came closer. The next moment, the handle turned sharply, and she yanked the door open.
"Karuizawa Kei!" Her voice was full of suppressed anger. "A guest comes over and you don't even greet her? What kind of behavior is that, hiding in your room? You have no manners at all!"
She pulled me out, and I stood in the middle of the living room with my head lowered, enduring her scolding.
Her words lashed at me like a whip. I wanted to explain that I wasn't rebellious or rude. I was just scared. But tears welled up first.
I bit my lip to keep from crying aloud. Only after Mom angrily turned and went back to her room did I collapse onto the floor, my shoulders trembling.
I cried until well past midnight that day. My eyes were swollen like walnuts, my pillow was soaked, and even my dreams were filled with scenes of being scolded.
On June 27, everything finally changed.
Mom had been knocking on my door since the afternoon, her voice cautious as she tried to reason with me.
"Kei, open the door. Mom needs to talk to you about something." I leaned against the door and didn't answer, but her voice still came through in broken fragments.
"Kei, I know you're hurting. Your dad and I are hurting, too. But we have to earn a living and support the family. We can't stay by your side all the time.
Your dad met a boy today. He's a good kid, and he's an orphan with nowhere to go... We want to take him in and let him live here with you, so you'll have some company. Then you won't have to be alone anymore."
Mom softened her voice even more, a hint of pleading in it. "He's sensible. He won't bother you. Having someone with you would help us feel more at ease, too. Just think of it as... having another member of the family. All right?"
I leaned against the door, my whole body cold. Perhaps I felt my mother's warmth, or perhaps I longed for a family. Somehow, I agreed.
As soon as I had, I regretted it. Would this unfamiliar boy be like Yamamoto and her friends? Would he bully me, laugh at me, or look down on the plain version of myself I'd become?
Then I saw him and learned his name—Hoshida No. He was very handsome, but his skin was deathly pale, and his eyes held not the slightest trace of emotion. He gave off a cold, distant feeling.
On July 1, my parents went back to work. He and I were the only ones at home.
[I was afraid again]
Early morning sunlight shone through a gap in the curtains. A faint sound came from the living room. I held my breath behind the door, breathing as quietly as I could.
I didn't know what he was doing. Was he looking around the house, or talking about me, hiding in my room? My fingers clenched until they went white. Images of Yamamoto and her friends shoving me, and Yamamura's cruel grin as she held the scissors, kept flashing through my mind.
After a long time, the sounds outside stopped.
I hesitated for ages before quietly turning the lock and opening the door a crack.
The living room was empty. Two cups of warm water sat on the dining table, with an unopened slice of bread beside them.
He stood on the balcony with his back to me, his slender figure outlined by the morning light. His profile looked hard and cold. He still seemed to have no emotion at all.
Hearing the movement, he turned around. My heart clenched. I immediately ducked back into my room and slammed the door shut, then leaned against it and gasped for breath.
His eyes had still seemed cold when I saw them just now, but there was no disgust or mockery in them. It was as if he were looking at something that didn't matter.
That only made me more uneasy. I didn't know whether his "kindness" was an act or simply his nature.
How was I supposed to get along with him from now on? Should I try speaking to him first? If he spoke to me, should I answer?
Fear coiled around my heart like vines. I crouched behind the door and hugged my knees as tears welled up again.
So much for having "another member of the family" making me feel safe. Instead, I'd lost the last bit of security I'd found in being alone.
July 3.
[That day, I was truly terrified]
Somehow, Yamamoto and her friends found out that my parents had left again. During break, they blocked me by the stairs. The words "a kid whose parents don't care about her" struck my eardrums like poisoned needles.
Before I could escape, they grabbed my hair, tugged at my clothes, and dragged me into the bathroom.
The cold tiles dug into my knees as they pinned me onto the filthy toilet seat. Yamamoto held a bucket of foul-smelling water, a cruel smile on her lips.
"Whoosh—"
The filthy water streamed down my hair, soaked through my clothes, and clung to my skin. Its pungent stench filled my nose.
I struggled desperately and screamed, "No!" and "It stinks!" But their hands held me down like iron pincers, and their laughter echoed through the tiny bathroom.
I didn't know how I managed to escape. I only remembered stumbling all the way home, unable to shake the stench clinging to me.
When I opened the door, the living room was lit with warm yellow light. Hoshida No had already prepared a whole table of dishes, with two sets of chopsticks laid out neatly. But I had no appetite even to look at them. All I wanted was to rush into the bathroom, wash the filth off, and flee to my "safe place."
I was just about to run to my room when a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist.
The touch was cold. I struggled violently as if I'd been burned and shouted, "No!"
Just as I thought, he was like Yamamoto and her friends. He'd only been pretending. Now he was finally showing his true colors as a bully.
Despair surged over me like a tide. I stopped struggling and let my body go limp, closing my eyes as I waited for the humiliation to come.
The grip on my wrist loosened.
I opened my eyes and saw that my wrist was already red, stinging painfully.
Hoshida No stood in front of me. His gaze fell on my soaked clothes and filthy hair. His voice was calm, without the slightest ripple. "Tell me. Who did this to you?"
I turned my face away. I didn't want to look at him or speak. Those humiliating scenes played over and over in my mind. How could I trust anyone again?
His fingers suddenly closed around my chin, forcing my head toward him.
His eyes had never held much warmth, but now they looked like a frozen lake, so cold they made me tremble. "Answer me. Who did it?"
It was the first time I'd seen such cold eyes. They frightened me even more than Yamamoto and her friends' cruel grins.
I shook all over, my lips quivering as I stammered out Yamamoto's name, along with the names of the other girls who always followed her.
He pressed me for details about their appearances, their heights, and even the places they often went. I felt as if all my strength had been drained away, and could only answer honestly.
After I finished, I slumped to the floor, tears silently falling. I didn't know what he planned to do with all that information. Was he going to tell on me, or help them bully me?
July 4 was a day I would never forget.
After lunch, I walked into the classroom with my head lowered. The moment I stepped over the threshold, I froze.
Yamamoto and the other girls were all kneeling on the floor at the back of the classroom.
Their faces were bruised purple and blue, and dried blood stained the corners of their mouths. Yamamoto's cheek was swollen badly, and she lisped when she spoke. One of her front teeth was gone.
Their usual arrogance had vanished. All that remained was misery and fear.
The whole class stared at me. Some were curious, some sympathetic, and others wore expressions I couldn't quite read.
I instinctively stepped back, wanting to escape this bizarre scene, but Yamamoto called out to me.
"Karuizawa... I'm sorry." Her voice was choked with tears, her head bowed low. "We shouldn't have bullied you or done those awful things to you. Please forgive us."
The others bowed along with her, their foreheads thudding against the floor. "I'm sorry. I was wrong... I'll replace that backpack. Please, don't let him come after us again."
One by one, they apologized, their postures utterly submissive. I stood there, frozen, my mind completely blank.
Who? Who was the "him" they were talking about?
Before I could figure it out, our homeroom teacher came into the classroom. She called me to the office with a serious expression.
After that, I was taken to the police station in a patrol car.
Sitting in the cold interrogation room and listening to the police question me, I slowly pieced together the truth—it was Hoshida No.
During lunch, he had used the details I'd given him to intercept them at the school gate and take them to an alley.
He hadn't wasted time talking. He'd simply attacked. They said he'd hit them brutally, his face expressionless the entire time, as if he were doing something perfectly ordinary.
Yamamoto and her friends had no chance to fight back. They could only let him beat them until they cried and begged him to stop.
The police said Hoshida No didn't have a single injury when he was brought in. There was only a little dust on his clothes.
During questioning, he'd calmly said, "They bullied my little sister." He hadn't said anything more.
I sat there, the police's words echoing in my ears. It felt as if something were squeezing my heart, making it ache and swell.
That boy who had always frightened me, with his cold eyes, had gone to such extremes for my sake.
I didn't know how to describe what I felt at the time. I was shocked and confused, and there was also a warmth I couldn't quite put into words.
So there really was someone who would stand up for me, someone who cared whether I'd been wronged.
But when the police showed me a photo of Hoshida No standing with his head lowered in the station hallway, I couldn't help feeling afraid again.
If he could hit other people so hard, would he treat me the same way one day?
That cold, utterly emotionless look appeared in my mind once more.
This time, though, the feeling was different from before. It was mixed with emotions I couldn't understand.
[That thought shouldn't have crossed my mind. He would only ever protect me]
The days that followed seemed to go by in fast-forward.
Yamamoto and her friends never showed up again. I heard they had all transferred to different schools one after another and left the city.
As for Hoshida No, he appeared at the school gate every day after class, leaning against the wall, his figure slender and his eyes still cold. But whenever I walked out of school, he would silently follow behind me.
Eventually, the whole school found out what had happened to me.
Instead of the distance and pointing fingers I'd imagined, many of my classmates came over to comfort me. The teachers talked to me several times, too, their voices full of concern.
It was a complicated feeling, like the stone weighing down my heart was slowly being lifted, and yet I was also almost overwhelmed by all the kindness.
I started trying to get along with everyone and gradually found my old self again.
I cut my bangs short and tied my hair back into a high ponytail, revealing my smooth forehead and a smile I hadn't shown in ages.
I threw away the old clothes that had faded from washing and changed into pretty dresses. I started paying attention in class and answering questions. The circles marking correct answers in my workbook gradually began to multiply again.
My classmates said I'd changed so much and that I'd turned out to be so pretty.
Only I knew that Hoshida No's arrival, and everyone's kindness, had given me the courage to walk out of the darkness.
On September 23, the sunset after school was especially gentle, painting the sky a rosy orange.
Hoshida No followed behind me as usual. When we reached the alley by my home, I stopped, turned around, and gathered the courage to look at him. "Hoshida No, why did you help me?"
He froze, as if he hadn't expected me to ask.
The sunset's glow shone through his black hair, casting faint shadows across his face.
The next moment, I saw an expression I'd never seen on him before—a smile.
It was faint, but like a ray of light, it brightened his cold features. It was so gentle I couldn't look away.
His voice was still calm, but carried a hint of warmth. One simple sentence made my heart race wildly:
"Because Kei is my little sister."
The evening breeze drifted through the alley, carrying the scent of osmanthus. I saw the tenderness in his eyes, and my own eyes suddenly stung.
I realized I wasn't alone anymore. "Thank you, Brother No."
From then on, whatever happened, I wouldn't be afraid anymore.
Because I knew someone would always be by my side, my strongest support.
The snow before the New Year fell heavily. Flakes as big as goose feathers drifted down, turning the whole world white.
The moment the lock turned, I saw my parents, travel-worn and tired, carrying big bags of New Year's groceries. But as soon as they saw me, their faces lit up.
"Our Kei is finally back!" Mom exclaimed, pulling me into a hug.
The dining table was covered with all my favorite dishes. At last, I poured out every bit of hurt I'd kept bottled up for so long.
I told them everything, from Yamamoto and her friends' bullying to the filthy water they'd poured on me. I cried as I spoke, tears spilling like beads from a broken string.
My parents' expressions shifted from shock to anger. Dad slammed the table and rolled up his sleeves, ready to go after Yamamoto and her friends. I held him back tightly. "Dad, it's all in the past. They've already transferred schools."
Mom held me as tears ran down her own face. "Your dad and I are so sorry. We weren't there for you, and you had to suffer so much."
Dad sat beside us, sighing again and again, his eyes full of guilt. When I told them how Hoshida No had stood up for me, my parents exchanged a glance and smiled with relief.
"That boy is a good kid. We'll have to thank him properly."
That night, Dad took Hoshida No by the hand and insisted on pouring him a drink, saying they had to "share a toast." Mom laughed and stopped him. "He's still young. He can't drink. Have tea instead."
Hoshida No sat there, still wearing his usual calm expression, but when Dad patted his shoulder, he gave a slight nod.
Outside, the snow fell heavier and heavier. Inside, the lights glowed warmly. It was the feeling of a whole family together, something I hadn't felt in a long time.
After the New Year, Brother No found a job at a shop selling household goods. He came home late every night.
I thought he wouldn't come to meet me at school like before, and I felt a little disappointed.
But when school ended, I still saw him at the same old spot by the school gate.
"Brother No, you don't have to work so hard," I said quietly as I walked over.
He shook his head. "It's fine. It's on my way."
Looking at Hoshida No, so tall and handsome, I realized that my heart was wavering. I took the initiative and linked my arm with his. When he only paused slightly and didn't stop me, I grew bolder and leaned against him.
[It was the first time I'd been this close to him.]
Later, I heard from a classmate that a girl from the neighboring class had confessed to Brother No, saying she liked his calmness and his air of composure.
It felt as if something were blocking my heart. I was weighed down and listless all day.
After school, I couldn't help asking him, "Brother No, I heard... someone confessed to you?"
He glanced at me and said calmly, "Yeah. I turned her down."
At that moment, the weight on my heart suddenly lifted. I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from turning up, and even my steps felt lighter.
March 8 was my birthday.
Brother No had gone out of his way to ask his boss for the day off and took me downtown.
We browsed the stationery store and bought the notebooks and fountain pens I liked. Then we went to a dessert shop and had strawberry cake.
We also went to an accessories shop. He picked up a blue hair tie and asked me, "Do you like it?" It was velvet, a lovely rich blue, with a tiny pearl attached.
I nodded, so he paid for it and told me it had cost 6,999 yen.
I took off the gold hair tie I'd always worn and put on the blue one. Brother No looked at me, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upward. "It looks great."
I was truly happy that day. Holding on to Brother No's sleeve, I chattered away about all sorts of things, from funny incidents at school to my plans for the future. He listened patiently the whole time, occasionally responding with a word or two.
Another year passed, and I noticed that a pink-haired girl often showed up at the convenience store where Brother No worked.
She always wore a neat school uniform. After school, she'd come to the shop to help out, sometimes arranging the shelves, sometimes cleaning, and she even brought Brother No lunch.
My heart turned sour. I thought she was trying to win his favor by helping out, and wanted to steal Brother No away from me.
One time, I went to the shop after school to wait for Brother No. The girl walked over to me and greeted me with a smile. "You're Kei, right? I'm Ichinose Honami."
Her smile was gentle, like a sunflower.
As we chatted, I learned that Honami had also received Brother No's help. "Brother No is a really kind person," Honami said. "I'm only helping out here because I want to thank him."
Once I learned the truth, the tension in my heart eased. Honami and I became good friends, too.
When my birthday came around again, I asked the question that made me blush. "Do you like Honami more, or me?"
I still remembered how strange Brother No's expression had been, but he answered that he liked me more, since I was his little sister, after all.
[That day, I was completely absorbed in his words: "I like you more."]